Racers Chapter One
by Farsightgames
Summary: Skeet Jonas dreams of being a great racer, but he can't know that his passion will lead him to a place where his history will return to haunt him.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Rondosarn lunged forward and slammed his hand on the emergency thrust. A jet of carbonised gas spewed from the portside of the _Sunrider_, his ugly barrel-bodied starship. It lunged over, narrowly missing the huge object decelerating from hyperspace.

The pilot hissed through his sharp teeth, glaring out the cockpit window as the Imperial Star Destroyer loomed overhead. Its grey underbelly reflected the light of the great yellow sun, making him narrow his eyes. Part shielding from the light, part look of hatred directed towards the huge vessel.

He stroked one of the horns on his head, letting out a long breath he had been holding since his hyperspace collision alarm sounded. A scaly hand reached out and with a flick of a switch the klaxon ceased.

The _Sunrider_ levelled out so that the curvature of the planet was laid out below them. The destroyer continued slowing, and as it took up orbit two other Imperial cruisers dropped out of hyperspace and took up position either side of the huge starship. Almost immediately sentry ships flew from the underside hangar and started patrolling the immediate vicinity.

Behind Rondosarn, the cockpit door slid open with an almost inaudible hum. The figure that entered was wide eyed, young faced and was also nursing a bruise on his left temple.

"What the... what was with the jink?" the man demanded, landing in the co-pilots chair. "Nearly knocked my brains out."

The pilot looked over at the man, his glare relaxing.

"I thought I said no passengers in the cockpit." His voice was light and almost a whisper, a strange contrast to his large frame.

The young man shrugged. "

I wanted to know what it was all about. I thought you said you knew all the non-patrolled routes?"

"Skeet," Rondosarn said, "I do know all those routes. As far as I know the Empire never patrol the Junduk System."

"My cargo isn't exactly legal..." Skeet Jonas looked at Rondosarn with a helpless look, spreading his hands to emphasise his point. He stood up and made to exit the cockpit but the big alien turned his seat to face him.

"I know what I'm doing, and don't worry about your cargo... I won't charge you extra for dodging an Imperial ship."

Skeet smiled, glad his unspoken question had been answered favourably.

The _Sunrider _began its descent, nosing down slowly and sliding into Junduk IV's atmosphere. With ease it headed toward the surface, the only sensation the two occupants could feel was a slight vibration in the hull. The starship dropped out of the cloud, and the details of the planet came into view.

Skeet Jonas looked out of the viewport at the place that had cost him all his savings to reach. He was incredibly disappointed.

Black mountains mingled with a still sea, seemingly bleeding their colour into the water. The sky was bright but heavily overcast, making the already dull landscape even worse. The odd patch of vegetation was sparse and dark, mainly situated in what appeared to be large craters in between the rocky terrain. The _Sunrider_ began to slow.

Skeet walked into the cockpit and got a better view out of the larger window, the moisture from the clouds streaking across the thick, treated glass. Rondosarn gave him a quick glance.

"You're not impressed, are you?" he asked.

Skeet shook his head and sighed heavily.

"Everyone kept telling me this was the place to be if I wanted to make it rich. I hope the planet doesn't reflect my mood at the moment."

The ship inserted itself into a high mountain range, and slowly wound its way down a canyon. The clouds were getting thinner now, the terrain lighter.

Rondosarn shrugged.

"Hold tight, Skeet. I think you're about to change your mind about this place."

The _Sunrider_ came out of the canyon.

Ahead of them was a huge series of three mountains, which appeared to have melted into one another. The central peak was pointing at the sky whilst the other two smaller ones were flat topped. The mountains appeared to be separated from the rest of the mountain range.

The whole thing was dotted with lights, glittering like dew on a bright morning. Dozens of ships flew around the peaks, and it wasn't until the _Sunrider_ got closer did Skeet see that all three mountains were actually one huge city carved from the rock itself. Each mountain was honeycombed with levels and walkways, speeder lanes and buildings.

The flat-topped peaks were the landing areas, sunken pits in the rock that could suit even the heaviest cargo ship. Traffic continuously came to and from these pits and several slots in the sides of the mountains that were obviously other bays, making Rondosarn slow to an almost stop and wait for an opening.

A flash of light caught Skeet's eye, and he leaned forward so that he could look down at the base of three-peak range.

And there it was, the reason why these mountains appeared separate from the rest of the range and the reason why he had come to Junduk IV.

A speeder racetrack wound it's way around the base of the city, completely surrounding it, and he could see stands lining most of the track. He could see the straight. He could see the bends and the twists and the turns. He could see four vehicles screaming down the finishing stretch but could not make out their design. He could see huge strobe lights illuminating the track as the racers passed, a chase 'droid in a holo-cam craft flying just above the speeding action. Huge holographic emitters were dotted around the track, showing the action in all its glory.

_This is what I'm here for,_ Skeet thought, stifling an excited laugh. All thoughts of the dismal looking world fled from his mind. He turned to Rondosarn, his smile wide and as bright as his young eyes.

"Welcome to Raca City," Rondosarn said.

It appeared that Skeet's euphoria was infectious.

"Right, so that's..." Skeet counted triangular coins into his palm, counting to himself but mouthing the numbers. When he was done he handed the coins to Rondosarn. "That's for transport from Tatooine, and this..." he counted some more coins out, and his visage changed from thoughtful to worried as he realised he was giving the pilot more than he could afford. "This is for the transportation of my cargo." He held out the coins to Rondosarn with a grimace.

He wished fervently that Rondosarn would think again about charging him extra for not declaring his cargo as they left Tatooine. He knew the risk he was taking, and that he deserved the extra credits, but he also knew that the pilot was not getting the amount of work he wished for and times under the Empire were hard.

Rondosarn looked at the credits and then at his passenger. Skeet's long dark hair ruffled in the wind, strands coming loose from the band he used to tie it back. His rough, unshaven face and unkempt clothes added years to the man and Rondosarn knew from constant contact with humans that he was very young for his species. He shook his head and held out a handful of coins for Skeet to take.

Skeet made no move and looked at Rondosarn with confusion.

"Look, just take it, willya?" Rondosarn said. "You're too young to be left high and dry and you deserve a break now that you're off that backwater Tatooine place."

"I don't know what to say..." Skeet took the offered coins. He knew better than to turn down an offer for courtesy's sake.

"Just make sure you win, alright? Make sure me giving away some of my profit was worth something. I don't know, I've got a feeling about you..."

"Not a bad feeling, I hope."

Rondosarn smiled, his sharp teeth glinting.

"No, not a bad one. Here let me help you unload this contraption."

The huge cargo ramp of the _Sunrider_ was down, and the two slowly uncovered a long sleek speeder bike, painted in a dark blue colour with Skeet's name in several dialects stencilled on the nose. It's delicate steering vanes wobbled as the cover was pulled away. Rondosarn looked at it with admiration.

"Well kept piece of kit," he observed, placing a hand on the cool metal.

"You want to see inside her," Skeet said. "She's originally a Delvon two-ninety, but she's so patch-worked and jury-rigged I don't think any self- respecting racer would fly her."

"I'm not really up to speed on repulsorlift vehicles, but I take it some of the modifications are...?"

"... a bit illegal, yes. Let's just say that legal engine work was not on my mind. From what I understand they don't care what's been done to a speeder in Raca City, as long as it goes really fast."

Rondosarn smiled and helped Skeet push the bike down the ramp. He put his hands on his hips and nodded at the young man.

"Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Skeet Jonas. Good luck."

Skeet shook the offered hand of the alien, and smiled at him.

"Thanks Rondosarn," he patted his money pouch, "for everything."

"You just make sure my faith is not displaced. I might even throw a bet on you."

Skeet chuckled and mounted the bike, thumbing a switch and bringing the drive engine to life. A few heads turned as the whine of the vehicle increased in pitch, indicating to the knowledgeable that the bike had been modified. Skeet applied a little thrust with his foot pedals and the bike exited the landing pit at a level hover.

Rondosarn watched him go, his smile slowly fading. He looked at his own money pouch and took it off his belt. He looked at it intently, replaying the moment when he had suddenly decided to give some of the coins back to Skeet.

_Why the _freck_ did I do that?_ He thought, a dark frown playing across his face.

The Delvon two-ninety was awash with stares from a thousand different species as it travelled down the speeder lane from the landing sector. Eyes and photoreceptors and other forms of observation regarded the young man as he rode the vehicle at a respectable speed past other, lighter, more practical vehicles. He hunted around for any sign that would indicate his way down to the racetrack.

An hour later he still hadn't got off the landing level. The whole place was a warren of tunnels and streets, criss-crossing roads and unfamiliar smells. Beings Skeet had never seen before looked at him with humour, curiosity and sometimes disdain. Most gave him passing glances, obviously used to new blood coming to Raca City to prove themselves on the track.

"That's the third time you've coasted past here, heh."

Skeet turned at the mousy voice. He had parked on the side of the speeder lane and was hopelessly looking out for a constable or a law-officer or some form of help to guide him to the lower levels. Most of the beings he had asked didn't know or didn't want to know. It appeared that most people on the top level stayed there.

The alien looking at him was short and wiry, with a strange bundle of whiskers around a small stubby mouth. It's huge floppy ears twitched and danced in unison with it's small blinking eyes and shaking head.

"Beg pardon?" Skeet said.

"Heh, I said you been going round, heh, in circles, eh, kid? Heh."

Skeet nodded and made to turn away.

"Right..."

"Go back, heh."

"What?"

"Go back down that way, heh, and turn down the service, heh, tunnel, heh. Takes you straight to the YAH place, heh."

"The YAH? What's that?"

"_You Are Here_. Heh."

Skeet smiled, looking back the way he had come and seeing the service entrance seemingly for the first time. He turned back to the alien and flicked it a small coin. "Thanks, pal."

He swung the bike around and accelerated away. The alien looked at the coin and twitched.

"Dumb kid. Heh. Heh."

As soon as he saw the YAH he realised the size of the city he had come to.

The tall glass screen was wavering in front of his tired eyes and as he started to press buttons and speak into the grill on the front of the You Are Here display he started to think about how much sleep he had missed out on over the last few days. He wasn't even sure what time of day it was here. For all he knew it was early morning and all these people milling about were on their way to their daytime workplaces.

The YAH bleeped twice to get his attention.

He rubbed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Do you wish the main stand, the civilian quarters, the hotel details, the mechanics storage facility, garage and speeder pens..."? The YAH had a dull monotone voice that grated Skeet's nerves.

"The pens. Yeah, the pens."

"One moment please why I locate a suitable route and print you a flimsy copy. Please deposit one zero-point-five coin."

Hoping the currency he had was acceptable, Skeet dropped one of his credits into the slot.

The YAH immediately spat it out again.

"Exact change, please."

"Oh, you miserable piece of scrap... just give me the damn flimsy!"

The YAH thought it over.

"Exact change, please, or I shall terminate your request."

The figure that leaped forward to stop Skeet from putting his boot through the YAH's dialogue speaker was quite strong although he looked quite wiry. He grabbed Skeet's arm and pulled him away from the machine. Skeet looked at him with shock and anger.

"If you hit 'em they call the constables. I know." The man was older than Skeet, maybe even twice his age, and he looked at him with narrow brown eyes. His balding head was adorned with scars and other unrecognisable marks, covered by a pair of thick goggles that rested on his forehead. Skeet looked him up and down and saw that he was wearing biker coveralls similar to his own.

"Who..."

The man grabbed Skeet's wrist and put his hand in his, giving it a firm shake.

"Brey Yard. I just saved you from a thousand credit fine, which..." he let go of his hand, looking at Skeet's creased clothes and dishevelled appearance.

"Yeah, thanks. You're right, I can't afford it. I'm just tired, need a place to put my speeder. I've been running around trying to find a way down to the racetrack."

Brey smiled. Skeet couldn't help but smile back at him, noticing a strange childish light in the older man's eyes.

"You're in luck, mister...?"

"Skeet Jonas."

"You're in luck, Mister Skeet Jonas. I'm going down that way myself. The pens?"

With a sigh that signified a bad time made better Skeet nodded.

"Fantastic. I'll follow you, Bay."

"_Brey_. Which one's yours?"

Skeet motioned towards the Delvon two-ninety. Brey nodded at the bike and pointed to one parked next to it.

"That's mine, an Ikas-Ando Starhawk. I'm putting her in for the class three races."

Skeet nodded without really understanding and headed to his bike. Brey noticed his lacklustre interest and frowned. It was not often that someone ignored his obviously heavily modified speeder. He climbed on his vehicle, a sleek black speeder with a central seat and oversized rear engine, leaned over the fuselage and started her up. It was a deep throaty sound that made Skeet turn and look. He powered the engine twice to impress the young man, lowered his goggles and started off.

With a shake of his head and a mumble under his breath, Skeet applied power to the thrust and followed Brey into a tunnel that gradually sloped downwards


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The Imperial Star Destroyer _Malevolent_ had taken up a stable orbit over the planet's central city, Junduk Major. The mile-long, wedge shaped grey hulk hung apparently motionless, the only activity being dozens of smaller craft buzzing around it like small insects. Fighters and gunboats and other service craft flitted between the destroyer and the other two light cruisers that accompanied it.

On board the _Malevolent's_ bridge, an Imperial officer was standing in front of the huge viewport that presented a huge vista of the space beyond. He adjusted his stiff uniform and placed his cap on his thin-haired head. His eyes were stern, almost cold, and the set of his jaw seemed carved from stone. His thin, pale face disturbed most of the bridge attendants, and he used this visage to great effect when giving orders. He made sure all his cylindrical passkeys were present and placed them in his breast pocket.

Another officer of the same rank approached him, and stood close enough to talk and yet keep their conversation personal. He himself had taken on that gaunt, official look.

"What do you think?" said the second officer.

Lieutenant Terrov turned his steely eyes on his comrade.

"I'm wondering what we're doing over this planet, Shreems. It's not on the official patrol route. It's pointless."

The officer shrugged, looking around casually to see if anyone might be listening. His gaze fell on a heavy blast door at the rear of the bridge.

"I'm sure he has something in mind. Maybe he's planning some shore leave. We can all go and watch the races."

Terrov turned and looked at the door, knowing that Shreems was referring to the man sat in a large meeting room behind it.

"Somehow I doubt it. Anyway, I'll soon find out. I've just been summoned."

"I know, I heard the call."

Terrov took a deep breath and suddenly decided to exert his authority.

"Carry on, lieutenant." he said loudly to Shreems, and began walking with a straight back and heavy footsteps to the blast door.

As he approached he cleared his throat, aware of the eyes of the bridge crew on him. He knew the word was going around that they had deviated from their planned patrol route to come to Junduk IV. Exactly why, no one knew.

And this being an Imperial Destroyer, no one dared to ask.

Terrov thumbed the button in the middle of the door and it split in two, each half receding into the floor and ceiling. He stepped into the room, noticing how dark it was. The illumination had been turned down somewhat. The long oval table and diamond-shaped chair backs reflected the light off shiny black surfaces. Terrov stood just inside the door, his hands clasped behind his back as the blast screens sealed again. He clipped his heels together.

"You requested my presence, Grand Moff?"

The chair at the end of the table turned slowly, and a grey-haired man regarded Terrov with wide eyes. His flesh was tanned and his jowls dangled almost like drapes. He stood as he looked at the lieutenant before him.

"Please, lieutenant, take a seat."

Terrov nodded and started to walk round the table to seat himself close to the Grand Moff.

It was then that he noticed another figure in the room. Sitting in the corner, just behind where the Grand Moff was standing, was another person. The features were indistinguishable, for a great black cloak was draped over the form. The hood was heavy and hung down over the face, enabling the face to be hidden and yet the wearer could look out.

Terrov shivered involuntarily. There was something about this figure he didn't like.

The Grand Moff noticed Terrov's wary stare and smiled.

"Do not worry, lieutenant. This man is here at my request."

Without another word Terrov sat down, and so did the Grand Moff. The figure remained completely motionless.

"I hear from other commanders and captains that you have a glowing record, Lieutenant Terrov."

"Thank you, sir."

"Your service to the Empire is exemplary. A fine record of commendations and service medals."

Terrov neglected to answer, wishing that Grand Moff Galgen would get to the point.

"Yet you've been passed over for promotion three times. Any idea why that is, Lieutenant?"

Terrov knew that Galgen was aware of exactly why he had been passed over. On the official record it said _taking control of situations out of his command designation_. This translated into the fact that he would give orders before his captain could. Captains rarely liked their subordinates to go over their heads.

"I think Captain Vud said you had _ideas above your station_."

"I was always told I should remember whose in charge, sir."

There were a few moments of silence as Galgen switched the holographic monitor in front of him off. He regarded Terrov with his usual wide-eyed stare.

"I like that kind of attitude. Forthright, powerful, confident decision making."

_Where is he going with this?_ Terrov thought.

"Lieutenant, I think it's about time you had your own starship to command. I'm thinking of making you a full captain."

There was a brief moment of elation in the back of Terrov's mind, but it was quickly swamped by suspicion. He was being thrown through the ranks to captain? This was unheard of. He always knew he would command a starship someday, but this was very sudden. He had only been transferred to the _Malevolent_ a standard month ago, and in all that time had hardly seen the Grand Moff. He was sure there was something more to this.

"That's most kind, sir. Will it be one of the flanking cruisers or is there another support ship you have in mind?"

Galgen shrugged and lifted his hands to take in the whole starship they were on. "I was thinking more of you taking command of the _Malevolent_, lieutenant."

_A Star Destroyer? Something is definitely amiss_. Terrov was as unreadable as ever. He kept his face expressionless and his voice level. "But, sir, you were given this vessel only a short time ago. Surely you're not being moved already?"

"As you know, lieutenant, I come from Imperial Intelligence on Coruscant, where I had a better job than travelling the Mid-Rim imposing the will of the Emperor on its sordid inhabitants. I have been making plans to return there. I will have no need of the _Malevolent_."

Terrov and most of the other command staff knew only too well that Galgen detested his work out here in the Mid-Rim. He was only one step away from getting as far away from the centre of Imperial government as was possible without travelling uncharted space. He had heard snippets of conversation where he had mentioned a desperate want of returning to Coruscant and take up a more important role. Shreems had said he once heard him talking about getting a seat on the Emperor's advisory staff, a nice safe commission away from the prying eyes of Imperial dissidents and this newly growing rebellion he had heard of. He knew he would have to do something special to get a seat like that. Maybe he already had. It certainly appeared that way.

"Lieutenant, I wish to return to Coruscant as soon as possible, and I wish you to help me do so. If you carry out one simple favour for me, and everything goes well, I will promote you to captain and this ship is yours."

_Ah, the price of advancement_. Terrov looked at the robed figure with curiosity and then back at the Grand Moff.

"You could always order me to do this bidding, sir."

"It's a lot more delicate than a simple order, lieutenant. Let's just say I would rather avoid any official directives."

_He's played his hand. He's taking an awful gamble. If he reveals to me his plans and they're dangerous to the Empire... he knows I would have to report him._

"Do you know of Raca City down there on Junduk?" Galgen asked.

"I do."

"Well, there is a Hutt down there who has taken advantage of a little agreement I partook in a while ago which he has discovered. I need to make contact with him and sort out some business transactions. I would rather not do this myself, of course, so I wish you to carry out a simple task which involves contacting this Hutt on my behalf and completing a small deal which will take no longer than a couple of days. Then we can return to our patrol route and, luck willing, I will get my commission and you will get your command."

_He's given away enough to tell me it's risky but not enough to give away his position. _

This was the dilemma. Terrov desperately wanted a command, and here he was being offered the _Malevolent_ of all vessels! He knew he would always have the problem of advancement with his attitude towards the chain of command. Here was a chance to bypass all that in one swoop. To better his position, his command would be recommended by a Grand Moff, no less.

There was a small voice at the back of his head screaming at him, telling him that he should decline and take his chances. But how long would it take him to advance if he took the normal channels? _Ten years? Twenty?_

That small voice screamed all the louder. Terrov realised the Grand Moff was waiting a decision. He knew he should say _no, I cannot be a part of this_, and so he opened his mouth to speak.

"Of course I shall help you, sir. I will require full details of the situation, of course."

Galgen smiled a large smile that swept from one ear to the other. "Excellent. Now, lieutenant, this is a very delicate situation. What I'm about to tell you must go no further."

"Of course."

Galgen stood and stretched his legs. It struck Terrov how young Galgen was to be a Grand Moff. He was most definitely no older than some of the captains in the fleet. He must have been well liked back on Coruscant to get this far this quickly. Either that or he placed a few high bribes in the Imperial Senate.

"A while ago I was posted to the Mid-Rim as a supervisor over the local sectors, encompassing thousands of systems but only a few thousand habitable worlds. Hardly an excellent state of affairs for a former head of Intelligence, wouldn't you say? It has always been my desire to serve on the Emperor's military advisory staff, but I have never had the opportunity to prove myself in a tactical situation.

"A few months ago, word started spreading that a rebellion was building against the Emperor's New Order. I have received numerous reports of several independent worlds, yet to fall under the governership of the Empire that are amassing vessels and readying their defences. If I can stop these planets from remaining independent I can impress the senate and the council and get the seat."

Terrov nodded. It was sound reasoning. If Galgen could prove to the other Moffs and senators he had what it took as a man of thought and prowess, he would get his seat.

"As you know, the Imperial expansion into this part of the Mid-Rim is slow. We don't have the resources yet to quell these planets with superior firepower. What we need is superior tactical capability. That is where Arcc Nedeen proves useful."

Galgen motioned to the robed figure that tilted his head up very slightly, enough to indicate he had acknowledged being mentioned but not enough to give away any features.

"I came across Arcc Nedeen a few months ago. One of my less reputable hires discovered him working for the Hutt that I have the altercation with, Komag. For a price I hired Arcc and his tactical genius to aid me in my quest for the seat on Coruscant. Unfortunately, Arcc's abilities are, say we say, dangerous to the Empire and Komag knows that my association with him would damage me irreparably and maybe even kill me. He has been blackmailing me ever since, threatening to communicate with Coruscant and reveal our partnership. I have one payment to give him, here on Junduk, before I am free of his threats."

Terrov once more looked at the figure in the shadows. He had moved slightly, sitting forward with his hands on his knees. Even his hands were swathed in black, wrapped in cloth like macabre bandages.

"I take it you mean Arcc is a man of some extreme talent?" Terrov said. "I understand, sir. If word got out you were not the one behind all these tactical miracles you wish to achieve..." He allowed the sentence to trail off.

Galgen looked at his lieutenant with disdain. He did not like the idea that this officer thought he was inept at his work and couldn't possibly make these decisions for himself. He nodded agreement nonetheless but left a gap in the conversation before revealing more information, which he knew Terrov was eager to learn.

_There's something else. This is much more dangerous than he is letting on._ Terrov once more looked at the figure that had sat back again.

Galgen cleared his throat.

"Actually, lieutenant, Arcc is excellent at his job because he is a long lived race with generations of knowledge."

_And?_ Terrov leaned forward, desperate to know more.

"And he is also proficient with the dark side of the Force."

There was a long pause as Terrov dropped his mask and stared at the Grand Moff in stunned silence. The figure in black stood, a huge figure even in the half-light. Galgen awaited a reaction from his officer.

Terrov knew of the Emperor's doctrine. All Force users were to surrender to him or be hunted down. Terrov knew the threat to the Emperor's stability in power if other Force sensitive people threatened him. Both he and Darth Vader, the leader of the Emperor's military forces, had hunted down and killed all the Jedi Knights and their subordinates. Vader, the Dark Lord of the Sith, had murdered Jedi and untrained dark side manipulators alike to protect his Emperor.

But here was one, head to foot a Force user - and an alien one, on board an Imperial Star Destroyer - standing in front of Terrov awaiting a reaction.

He could sense the coldness of the alien as it stood there, as motionless as it had been when sitting down. He knew the stories of the good and peaceful Jedi Knights, and the hate-filled and murderous Dark Jedis. The light side of the Force and the dark side, two paths of power that separated good from evil, and Terrov was sure that, even if Galgen had not said what side of the Force he used, this one was a Dark Force manipulator. He could feel it.

The Force was once a religion, a way of life for many of the peace-loving denizens of the galaxy. The Force, from what he knew, was an energy that all livings things had a hand in generating, a power which could be manipulated by the very few. With the right training it was possible to sense and move things with the power of will alone, achieve things impossible.

But with every action comes a reaction. He knew, from the stories told to him as a child and through basic knowledge training at the academy, that the Force had a light side and a dark side, used for good and evil.

Darth Vader, a Dark Side user and even worse a Sith, had not discerned between the two when he had helped to slaughter them all. Any Force user was a danger to the New Order.

"You understand my position now, lieutenant?"

Terrov stood and nodded. It was too late now. He had agreed to help Galgen and had become involved with something a lot bigger than even he thought he could handle. Still, if things didn't go according to plan, maybe he could use the knowledge he had gained and use it against Galgen. Disgracing a Grand Moff and turning a Force user over to the Emperor himself! He wouldn't be suprised if they made him an admiral!

With all this in mind Terrov decided to obey Galgen's wishes and wait for the right moment to strike if things went awry. At this point, he was willing to aid his Grand Moff and secure his captaincy.

"I understand, sir. It does not affect my decision to aid you."

Galgen beamed.

"Good. Good! Now, I want you to communicate with Komag the Hutt and arrange a meeting so that I can hand over the merchandise. Once that is over, we shall crush the dissident planets with Arcc Nedeen's help and I will get my seat. Then _you_ will get your commission."

Terrov snapped his heels and bowed slightly at the waist to his Grand Moff.

"As you wish, sir."

"Dismissed."

Galgen watched Terrov turn smartly and walk to the blast doors, stepping through them before they were fully opened and sealing them behind him.

He turned to the black robed figure.

"Excellent. I think this was a good idea of yours, Arcc. Now we have a scapegoat if things go wrong. I was right about him, wasn't I? He's so desperate to get ahead in the New Order he'll do anything."

Galgen was obviously pleased with himself and he slumped into his seat, reaching for the comm button to summon his aide for refreshments.

Arcc lifted his head slightly. All that was visible was a long chin that terminated in a single small horn curved upwards. His skin was dark, even under the hood, and the fixed grin behind his lipless mouth was huge. The sharp teeth that were present were not visible to express any humour; the grin was a physical fixture.

He spoke as if talking through clenched teeth. It was low, rumbling and almost a whisper.

"_He will betray you_."

Galgen's hand hovered over the comm, the sudden sweat standing out on his forehead indicating his self-confidence had evaporated.


End file.
